


there is a permanence, here

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Post-Canon, Relationship Study, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, mention of suicide notes, minor mention of gore, terminal diseases mentioned past tense and briefly, within solely one or two sentences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: It’s a beautiful dichotomy of all he ever thought it could be. He wants nothing more than Hinata and a life with him, ideally one of hope and intimacy rather than despair. That, he muses, would be such a wondrous existence.His pale hands, subconsciously, tighten around the diamond, the edges nearly cutting into his already bruised skin. It’s enough to laugh.For, Komaeda is not wondrous, is he?(komaeda and hinata attempt to define permanence, separate death and life in the lens of romance, and reach some closure within their complicated yet endless relationship.)
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 16
Kudos: 89





	there is a permanence, here

_ This valuable diamond was created from the remaining fragments of the original Hope Diamond when it was cut long ago. Rumors persist that death follows anyone who has this item in their possession. _

* * *

There is something beautiful about the way that the water shines from outside Hinata’s cabin.

Not that it is inherently different, of course, to another view. Komaeda knows that it’s the same water, that if he stood atop the warehouse, or went into his own cottage, that it would still be the same ocean, extending endlessly. He’s lost himself in it, before, how seemingly  _ limitless  _ it tends to be. It’s terrifying. It’s perfect. It’s more than he deserves, and everything he has.

The water looks different from Hinata’s room, though. There’s a certain iridescent hue to it, dark blue under the moonlight but with shifting tones of violet and light turquoise. It’s interesting, how lacking it is in something particularly  _ boring,  _ like a shimmering black and nothing more-- and yet, he knows Hinata must be tired of the sight, by now.

He averts his eyes from the view, a difficult challenge, and instead looks at what he cradles in the palm of his hands. Long ago, back when they were immersed in the Neo World Program, Hinata had given him something. A diamond, fittingly called  _ Another Hope,  _ made of the shattered parts of The Hope Diamond. It had startled him, to have been given something so  _ beautiful  _ when Komaeda was all but, and the implications of death tracing whoever holds it was not lost on him.

It may have skimmed Hinata’s mind, admittedly. But, oh, they faced death soon enough, didn’t they?

When Komaeda had woken up, he took to investigating the MonoMono Machine, tucked into the back corner of the half-rebuilt dining hall, collecting dust. He understood why-- after all, it stood as a reminder of what all had occurred, and he figured very few found themselves in the darker, abandoned places on the island. It’s why Komaeda is the only one who finds himself up in the cliffs, the only one who comes to the warehouse under the afternoon sun, the only one to refind the diamond and hold it in his hands.

He can’t remember what he felt when he found it again, but with all bets placed and all points considered, it was likely an empty nothing.

In any case. He really does hope Hinata comes back soon. It truly  _ would  _ be disappointing if he decided to overwork himself again, sending emails to the Future Foundation (and oh, a sick taste in his hopeful mouth) and falling asleep on the hardwood. It would be shameful for someone of Hinata’s stature to do that, after all his preaching of self care that often falls upon deaf ears; Komaeda knows, certainly, that very few have called the therapist linked to the Future Foundation, that fewer have even  _ considered _ it.

It’s easy for matters like that to slip his mind. Though his diseases have been cured through vigorous (perhaps misplaced) effort from Hinata, he knows that his mind still lacks in some ways. His memory can be atrocious, his empathy has, haha, certainly been lost, and requests for something like  _ therapy  _ easily slides in the cracks of his brain. 

The way it is, then. 

Hm. The diamond really  _ is  _ rather beautiful. It likely won’t be in his hands any longer, but he still has fears that the hold from someone as disgusting as him could ruin its luster and inherent perfection. He can practically  _ feel  _ the uncleanliness sinking in, tainting it, and he  _ almost  _ clenches his hands and leaves, abandons the plan he has set…

… but he won’t, because he has to do this. He  _ wants  _ to do this.

Selfishness claims him again.

He was not the only person who had this idea, in truth. It was a proposal (irony not lost, only left aside) that was run by Sonia, as she has always been one to pry politely. It took a few presses and raised eyebrows, an encounter set over a few cups of white tea and sencha, for Komaeda to let the confession slip from his lips. The princess (or ex-princess, in technicalities) clasped her hands in delight, finding herself excited in the flair of this kind of affair, flowers all but dripping from her lips as she cheered and swore for love. He could have never promised the same.

When Komaeda still had liberties to dream, dating prior to the tragedy, he thought of love like rose petals and read-aloud poetry, cut in half by the edge of envy and spite. He read from Shakespearean tragedies and constructed his thesis, watched from afar as reserves kissed in the courtyard (how they’ve lost their place) and the talented gossipped. 

Of course, in the smear that punctuated his slide to despair, tragedies with melodramatic endings became objective devotion, because it is all but said, on the island, that Komaeda loved Kamukura Izuru with a collar on his neck and a lifetime of devotion. They were not given a lifetime, as the Future Foundation swept them away and took them here, but romance shifted then.

Now, Komaeda does not know what to make of it. Idealism clashes with nihilism to rival Nietzsche, and it took many encounters and arguments from Hinata to realize that love could still bloom in such a shadowed, hollow place of poison-ivy growth. Love with Hinata has been expectable-- debates about Poe from dawn until the early evening, occasional days spent lazing around and holding each other close, nights of excitement and a thickening nostalgia, and passing glances and smiles to tie it up with a bow. It’s in more subtle matters, like Komaeda having to fight Hinata (so sweet, so stubborn) into falling asleep, or Hinata pushing him to swallow his medication.

It’s a beautiful dichotomy of all he ever thought it could be. He wants nothing more than Hinata and a life with him, ideally one of hope and intimacy rather than despair. That, he muses, would be such a wondrous existence.

His pale hands, subconsciously, tighten around the diamond, the edges nearly cutting into his already bruised skin. It’s enough to laugh. 

For, Komaeda is not wondrous, is he?

He hears the door open and settles, the lock clicking and a soft sigh from behind him. “Komaeda, why are you sitting on my bed alone?”

Hands placed in his lap, diamond firmly concealed with a subtle slide into his pocket, he offers a pleasant smile. “Who else would be with me, Hinata?” He had dropped the honorific a few months after leaving the Neo World Program and being revived. The sole reason was that it felt out of place, he convinced himself. “I  _ was _ waiting for you, though.”

“I figured, since this is my cottage.” Hinata takes off his tie, folds it, and places it in a drawer. His room tends towards being messy, but a few weeks ago Komaeda’s irritation hit a peak, leading him to go through and clean it all up. It’s still not in prime condition, but at least there aren’t shirts on the floor right beside crumpled paper, all underneath nightstands with day-old coffee mugs, half filled. Komaeda can find some satisfaction in that, at least. “Did you, uh, need something? Or…?”

“Is it not enough that I wanted to see you?” he asks rhetorically, skimming past the question with elusion. 

Hinata rolls his eyes, goes for the pants next. It would be slightly awkward to carry out the next few steps while Hinata was in his boxers, Komaeda notes, but it’s not exactly like he can stop him. “Okay fine, dumbass. You still seem like you have something to say, though. Might just be intuition or whatever, but.”

“I do have something to say, as a matter of fact.” It is not the best lead in, but Komaeda supposes if he were to wait for a perfect occurrence, it would come when the two are corpses rotting beside flowers. Mm. It would be quite a lovely sight, wouldn’t it? The permanence of that?

Ah, but Hinata dislikes when Komaeda speaks of death. He wonders, then, how Hinata could love him to begin with.

“Alright, go for it.” Hinata prompts carelessly. “Can I brush my teeth first, or do you need full attention or whatever?”

“I would prefer if you did not brush your teeth, but I have no authority over your decisions.”

“Request isn’t authority, just tell me what it is.”

Komaeda smiles. Hinata is like a candlewick, really. “I love you.”

Hinata blinks, his face slightly flushed (burning, burning, burning). “Uh. I love you too?” There is a pause. “What were you  _ actually  _ going to tell me?”

“Perhaps it was just that, Hinata,” Komaeda entertains. 

“Look, Komaeda, it’s one AM.  _ Please _ make this easier on me and be straightforward.” 

“Ah, okay.” Komaeda slips his hand into his pocket, standing up to approach Hinata and holding out the diamond in his palm. “Here.”

For a moment, Hinata’s face is unreadable. There’s something inquiring in that, and Komaeda knows that Hinata is somewhat surprised. Yet, when he speaks, his voice is more confused than elated. What a pity. “... What’s this?”

“A diamond, Hinata,” he explains needlessly. 

“I can see that.”

His lips tilt up. “Another Hope. That’s what it’s called, I believe. Pieces of the Hope Diamond after it had been cut up. It is said to bring death to the holder of it-- which is rather grim, however…” Mm. He can explain that later, he supposes. “In any case, I found it in the MonoMono Machine. You had given it to me back in the Program, if you can remember.” Hinata struggles to recall most of it, in truth, and Komaeda has never been important enough to justify a distinct memory. “I thought it was only fitting if I gave it to you.”

Hinata tilts his head, accepts the diamond and fiddles with it in his hands. He keeps his gaze there even when he says, almost accusingly, “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

“Mm. Maybe.”

“... Then tell me.” 

Komaeda backs away just a bit, sitting back on the edge of the bed. He is accustomed to how the space shifts around him, with Hinata still standing and Komaeda beneath him. It’s something he is quite fond of, really. “Isn’t it fascinating to you, Hinata? How the two of us have been so connected over the years, though various states. It is only natural, then, that we spend the rest of our life here, together, on Jabberwock. If we are following a trend. … Right?”

Something shifts in Hinata’s expression. He must have figured it out, in part, but he does not say it. “... Right. That was the plan, yeah.”

“What truly fascinates me, though…” Komaeda’s smile twists into something cheerier, “... is how a future as beautiful as  _ that  _ could have any place for the two of us.”

Hinata’s gaze is firm. “Komaeda, that’s-”

“Please.” And Hinata quietens, almost like a command. And, Komaeda does not lack humor, so he laughs through a stuttering breath. “Hope has found itself in you, Hinata. It always has. It flows through Jabberwock, a place with the thick of death and decay, blooming despite it all. It’s incredible what you have done here, what the others have done here. So then, why is my mind drawn to the image of fifteen deaths, curled together in graves of flowers? Why is that what compels me?”

“I’ve been trying to work that one out for years,” Hinata replies, an edge in his voice.

Komaeda laughs again. “I apologize for the difficulty.”

“You don’t have t-”

“Death is what draws me. It always has been. At first, it chased after me.” His gaze falls to Another Hope, sitting innocuous in Hinata’s grasp. “But now, I have chased after it, rabbit’s foot and a nine-tailed fox. In wanting a life for you, I am securing the want of  _ death  _ with you. I can’t think of anything more lovely than that. So then, why does it  _ sicken  _ me-” his voice suddenly sharpens, bellicose and venomous. “Why does it  _ hurt,  _ to think of a life, to think of a death, with  _ you?  _ Is it because I am so undeserving? Is it because neither of us deserve that, for you are wonderful, Hinata, but marked by fate in a way that pulls pity from the moon itself? Why does the very  _ thought  _ of loving you tear me to shreds, bone by bone, flesh by flesh, blood by blood, until I am a hollow skeleton at your feet? Why do I hate you so  _ feverishly,  _ then, knowing that my worthless devotion is all I could ever offer? Why, now, do I want a life with you, when I know that wishing for life is my fatal flaw, what will leave me aching in the end?”

Hinata moves to the bed, sets the diamond aside and shifts to place his hand on Komaeda's. Komaeda twists away, and Hinata stares at him with slightly cautionary eyes. “Komaeda-”

“I am not done, Hin-”

“Then tell me.”

“I want to marry you, Hinata.” It all falls silent, and with a rushed breath he tries to let out all he is thinking. “That is my only request to you. I cannot stop myself from wanting to be with you, Hinata. I have tried, but I can’t make myself leave. It’s  _ frustrating.  _ Months ago, I’m sure you knew, but I found myself at the cliffs. I stared at the ocean, and I thought,  _ there is a permanence, here, and Hinata will be ripped from me, of my own accord.  _ I stepped away.” Hinata’s face shows horror conflicting with apathy, and Komaeda finds that beautiful, too. “I know I do not deserve you, that I am marked for death, as you are, that a wish to be with you forever is lacking the satisfaction I want. I will never be satisfied, Hinata. I will never-,” his voice breaks.

Hinata reaches out, pries Komaeda’s hand open so that the marks left by his fingernails won’t bleed, presses Another Hope back into his palm and holds it in both his hands. It’s the most romantic, tragic thing Hinata has ever done. “Komaeda, listen to me-”

He shakes his head. “I will never be happy, here. I will never find the peace you have sold yourself to create, all those years ago. This hope you create? I am merely a servant, to love and to cherish, following you to the ends of the world. And, if we slip through the fabric of this future, I want to slip beside you, I want to  _ crave,  _ in sickness and health. Yet I hate you, bitterly, with every piece of myself, for as far as I can recall. I can never atone. I can never find contentment without blood staining my hands, knowing I am undeserving, knowing all you have given to make me worth something. If you are the scalpel, Hinata-” he reaches with his free hand to brush the crown of Hinata’s head, face twisting as he touches the scar. “-am I not the patient? I am forever yours, Hinata, but will I ever be happy with that? You have forced me into surviving. Into happiness, against my will and against all odds. You’ve left me here with  _ nothing  _ but your love, and how could I ever repay you? You have given the world to me, and I have ripped it away. If we swear ‘til death do us part’, who is taken?”

“Neither of us,” Hinata interrupts, a fiery look in his eye. “Neither of us are going to die, Komaeda. I’m not doing that shit again.”

“You’re so certain of it.” Komaeda knows that once, he may have cried. Now, he is only aware of the cracks in his chapped lips, the sad tilt of his smile, the melancholic conflict in his mercury eyes. A beautiful dichotomy-- his body tenses. “I will never be content, but I want you to be mine. What kind of fool does that make me?”

Hinata says nothing.

“Perhaps I should die, then,” he contemplates, “Would that hurt?”

“It would. Of course it would, what the hell are you even saying?”

“Hypothetical. What do I do, Hajime?” He laughs. Self pity, what a vice. “I love you more than anything, but I hate you the very same. I want to make you happy, but I am plagued with selfishness. I think to die, but I wish to live by your side forever. ‘It will rain tonight, let it come down.’ No matter what, I will not be satisfied. Nothing will be perfect, and it’s so frustrating I could almost  _ scream _ . Isn’t it hysterical?” He almost chokes on laughter. Hinata does not do the same.

“... Komaeda, I would like to say something.”

“Then tell me.”

Hinata  _ almost _ smiles, ever so perplexing. But oh, the nothing dies as well. “I think desires can conflict. Mine do, for one.”

“Tell me?” Komaeda almost pleads.

“Maybe later. It’s not my point, really. What I’m saying is, it’s fine. It’s  _ fine _ . And I get dissatisfaction. Like hell could I ever forget  _ that _ .” He laughs, and it’s almost scathing. Komaeda knows it’s not meant for him.

“But there is a reason for it,” he argues. “You have given me the world. What right do I have to be bored?”

“You’re used to unpredictability, Komaeda. That’s why you and Kamukura could tolerate each other. Could love each other, or as close as that bastard could get to it.” And he wants to interject, to say Kamukura did not love him, but if Hinata himself is saying it, red eye gleaming ever so slightly… what a pity. How he wishes he could cry at something so  _ despairing _ . “Either way, it’s still boredom. No matter the cause, you’re bored. And that’s just how that is. You can still be happy, though.”

Komaeda shakes his head. “ _ You _ can, Hinata. That hasn’t been stripped of you-”

“The scalpel was a scalpel and I was the patient. I’m not supposed to feel happiness, Komaeda.” That silences him quickly. “But fuck it, maybe I still can be  _ close _ to it. Margin of error, or whatever. There are some things I want. And you want too, don’t you? You want things and they contradict but not everything is permanent.”

“The butterfly effect, Hinata.”

“Non-sequitur. Fuck the butterfly effect.” It’s immediate. “Anyway. Easy example. You could, I don’t fucking know, sit down or something.”

“I’m already sitting, Hinata. Both of us are.”

“Humor me.” Komaeda stifles a smile and nods. “You sit down, stand up, whatever. You can undo that shit.” and Hinata sounds almost  _ bitter _ , “You couldn’t undo, oh, I don’t know, falling off a cliff. For an easy, casual example. Y’know.”

“Are you sure?”

Hinata blinks, then nods. He really is too patient with him, if the sight of his impatience is kind. “Yeah, I’m  _ pretty _ sure that if you fell off a cliff, even Kamukura wouldn’t be able to fix that.”

“Am I something to be fixed? Medication can do wonders, but brain matter is quite a loss. I’d be flawed before I hit the bottom.”

“Your bones being broken and jutting out of your pale skin with blood gushing out and your eyes glazed over isn’t the same thing as your  _ fucking mental state _ , Komaeda, I  _ know _ what you’re trying to  _ imply _ .” Hinata spits out, voice raising, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. What a thought to break. When he talks again, his voice is  _ almost  _ even. “Sorry. Just… yeah. Not that. Point is, death isn’t exactly an ideal end goal.”

Komaeda hums. He still remembers the pain of dying. He wakes up screaming about it, sometimes. Hinata is there most of the time, and it’s Hinata who reminds him he’s alive. He’s too good to him, really. “It’s not. That’s why I deserve it, Hinata.”

“Death isn’t something to be deserved, and I can argue with you  _ forever _ on that.” For a second, it’s silence. Then, in a quieter voice, he presses, “A forever with you, maybe? If you still want that.”

“Don’t tempt me, Hinata.” Neither mention the fact that Komaeda is the one who proposed in the first place. “I wish you had never woken me up. It would have been easier, that way. I don’t  _ understand _ this. I don’t understand  _ any  _ of this, Hinata. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. What you  _ want _ from me. It’s all despairingly the same, unless…”

“Unless…?” Hinata asks just as faintly.

“Nevermind.” He doesn’t understand. He won’t, or he can’t.

There is a pause. Hinata looks in his eyes for an answer. Komaeda traces the diamond with his hands, still held in the other’s. There are no cameras in the cottages, anymore, but it would be amusing to recount this. He’ll ask when he can mend his own lashes. 

Hinata breaks the silence. “... Back to the question. Do you still want to, y’know?” It’s not accusatory, not expecting. Just a question.

“What would you like, Hinata?” If he tries hard enough, he can let the panic simmer out of his voice. Can make things the way they used to be, before he started rambling about death. Oh, to return things to their place. Komaeda has never been one for that.

Hinata shakes his head firmly. “Not the question.”

“Humor me.”

“Of course I do. It’s not going to change things. I’ll still get to hold your hand, albeit a bit heavier. Will still bicker with you on things, sleep at your side, and whatever. Nothing will change, really.”

“That’s the problem.”

“You-- or me, I guess-- wearing a ring isn’t going to change shit. That’s not how the world works.”

Komaeda tilts his head, coaxing. “My parents said it did.”

“Your parents-” Hinata cuts himself off. 

It’s always been saccharine, seeing Hinata speak ill of the dead. A diversion from before, certainly. “Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter. Look.” His voice softens a bit. “Do you want to just… put this off until later? Or something? Just, it’s pretty late-” lark, not nightingale, “-and I think it might be easier to talk this out in the morning.”

“Ahaha, how despairing,” Komaeda replies.  _ Non-sequitur, _ he chides himself. “I try to confess romantically and end up ruining it. How expected of me. Truly, I’m despicable.”

“I mean. It’s a fairly important conversation to have.”

“If I said yes, could I say no tomorrow?”

Hinata blinks. “Hypothetically, yeah. It would be… kind of non-traditional, though. To go back on it. Like, I don’t want to do this if you don’t mean it.”

“I do.” Hinata says nothing again. Komaeda smiles-- there’s a shipwreck in his mind. “Are you not supposed to echo it back?”

“... You want this.”

“I’m not sure if I do, but if it’ll be easier-”

“It’s not about  _ ease,  _ Komaeda.” Hinata lets go of Komaeda for a moment, runs his fingers through his hair. In that very moment, Komaeda pulls his hand away from Hinata’s slightly-looser grip, allowing Another Hope to tumble to the floor while he clasps his hands and waits for Hinata’s response.

When he is quiet, Komaeda presses. “Like that.”

Hinata stares. Shakes his head, stares again. He stands up smoothly, kneeling down to pick up the diamond, and he turns to look at Komaeda. The position, the sight, is enough to make Komaeda’s heart stop. 

Hinata kneeling.

_ And oh, if we were traditional. _

His hazel eyes look quite different in his cottage. How peculiar.

Hinata makes a motion to move, but Komaeda’s hand reaches out and holds him in place, awkwardly on his knee on the floor. Hinata obliges him, as he always does. How kind of him. 

Komaeda almost laughs. How  _ chivalrous. _

He fears he may suffocate instead.

With every second of staring, Komaeda feels himself slip out of place. The space of the room has shifted drastically, Hinata beneath him, and it’s in this crippling moment when Komaeda feels a rush of something he cannot place. A complex pull towards a fairytale scene, prince on the floor with a crown of scars and Komaeda endlessly collared, choked up in a tower with painted daydreams and infatuation runs its course. A sequence of colors that Komaeda has never seen before, dancing around the holes in their lifetimes and spilling into them, bursting behind his irises as every realization he hasn’t had yet comes to him. It’s a brief moment where Komaeda sees the thousands of times he’s died in Hinata’s eyes and the one time he  _ hasn’t _ , one he was so  _ willing _ to give away to avoid a  _ promise _ , and with the reverse of everything he feels himself want to push, push, push.

It’s a flicker of everything. It’s an absence of nothing.

Hinata stands up in the end, the room moving back to normal, Another Hope placed on the nightstand. It’s not enough. For a second, Komaeda got clarity, and he tugs Hinata with as much strength as he can muster, falling back onto the mattress, and pleads, “Tell me.”

There’s a second of confusion, one that lingers forever, a permanence to that. Hinata tells him, “It’ll be okay,” and it’s not what he was thinking of, it’s not the confession he needed, it’s nothing like the colors spilling into his pupils but it’s  _ something _ , and it’s Hinata’s words on Hinata’s tongue and it’s Hinata’s arms wrapped around him, framed in happenstance. It’s Hinata’s selfishness, Hinata’s love, Hinata’s proposal, and Hinata’s acceptance. It’s the time spent in Hinata’s cabin, waiting for him to arrive while the diamond laid placid in his hands; it’s the critical understanding of the relationship he has sworn himself to, and the knowledge that he can  _ never truly conceptualize  _ all he has given to the other, all he has taken.

Their relationship was once a push and pull, a complex machine with two gears turning in opposite paths, tearing the two of them apart while they collapsed together. A dying star-- the endless volumes of poetry Komaeda has read, has spoken through, to try to make sense of his own life through someone else’s words. Once, it was mechanical and automatic, but now there is the contrast, now there is the indecision that makes him falter, the self-assuredness that makes him soar before Hinata draws him down (and who is the Icarus, and who is the wings, and who is the sea?). 

Komaeda may not know to marry, may not have learned what that can entail, may have found death the only permanence and everything else the complex areas of time, but he knows, as Hinata stares down at him with soft, affectionate dispassion, that he may have married him before. The brief times they met before The Tragedy, where Komaeda could still be fooled as a hopeless romantic who knew he was running out of time. In Tragedy itself, and the damning aftermath, where Komaeda was all but sworn away, ready to be there  _ in sickness and health, til death do us part.  _ The simulation, where all was innocuous until death came, where files broke his heart in a way Hinata never could have, or maybe reversed.

And now, the realization that Komaeda may live, that Komaeda has a choice, that Komaeda is not running on time that the world has scathingly gifted to him, that Komaeda has to face consequence-- it’s overwhelming. It’s sickening. It  _ betrays _ him, the realization that he is not a  _ child _ anymore, that what has always been taken from him at his own fault is now thrust in his face, mocking him, and he thinks of the warehouse as he stares at Hinata. Maybe he should have told him there.

Hinata grows impatient at the silence, Komaeda knows, so he reaches up to wrap his arms around his neck, pulls him down below the brinks of gravity as their lips touch. Komaeda thinks about stolen kisses and mindless flirting on a beach. He thinks about the childhood he never had, the childhood he never deserved to have, never cared to have. He thinks about all the things that shouldn’t matter-- the will he wrote out when he was sixteen, the suicide note he had written three years earlier, and then two years before, the list of grievances with the world he had written through the course of seven months at the age of nine. He thinks about being the only kid in a playground, he thinks about bruises that were  _ always the wrong color,  _ enough for him to induce more, he thinks about falling for what he swore himself against.

Hinata’s lips are still on his when he finally clicks together the permanence. The memories that haven’t died with him, the third paragraph of his death note he still has by memory, the exact centimeter length of his antibiotics as a kid, the scent of his iron pills, the indents Another Hope left on his palm. The permanence, the permanence,  _ there is a permanence, here.  _

_ There always has been. _

So when Hinata draws away from him, heaving in a breath, Komaeda finds himself speaking through asphyxiation and saying, with all his tell-tale hearts he could never define, “Marry me.”

And Komaeda’s voice is desperate and wavering, soft and indecisive, filled with realizations that may flicker away from his mind tomorrow- and Hinata must know, with the way he looks at him.  _ Hinata must know.  _ And yet, Hinata only leans down to kiss his neck, atop one of the scars and the place Kamukura always used to leave marks-- and that must be human nature-- before whispering back, “Alright.” 

_ With all this confliction to end with ease, Hinata? A hardly settled heart, still. _

Komaeda breathes again.

He is still stripped bare and quivering, every moment of his life flashing before his eyes as if he is about to die-- but death is not Hinata’s arms around him, death is not the promise of a life together, death is not stolen kindness because perhaps death is more calculated, rose thorns placed where his despondency will step. Or perhaps he has miscalculated death, perhaps Hinata is an angel (though he has to laugh, for Hinata is everything sacred and nothing holy) and that’s how death sweeps him up-- but for now, he does not know. He does not know, and he does not resent that.

(He could accept it, were he to resent. Were he to hate. He could allow it. But he doesn’t want to, anymore.)

The plan he had does not unfold. Hinata makes sure the curtains are closed and the door is locked while Komaeda mindlessly straightens a pillow and smooths the creases out of the sheets until he is shaking with tension. Hinata ruins it with unnecessary folds immediately, and Komaeda knows he is trying to prove half a point, so he concedes and lays against him. He’s warm, but nothing like the summer heat, and it reminds him to remember autumn, tomorrow, and that it will always come. 

It terrifies him.

Hinata says, kindly but all too soon, “Well, goodnight.” A pause. “I know you’re not going to sleep. That’s fine. I don’t know if I will, either.”

“Should I apologize?” Not a retort. A question. For he is still so afraid.

“You’re fine, don’t worry.” Hinata squeezes his shoulders. “It’s been a lot for you, hasn’t it? But we got here, in the end. You’re okay with that?” 

“It’s all permanent, isn’t it?” It’s entirely rhetorical, and Hinata plays along. “It’s all temporary, too. I lie on extremes, Hinata, I lie  _ for  _ it. Is there a balance? A place where decisions don’t eternally matter, don’t eternally mean nothing? The nihilism in me pleads to damn it all, the rest remembers parts of myself I thought I forgot, and yet are still pieces of me. And the longevity must mean permanence. Is marrying you a decision that will forever shift my life, or a decision that means nothing? I wonder.”

Hinata doesn’t answer any of his questions. It’s not for him to respond to. Komaeda wonders, briefly, who is meant to have the answer. “I know,” Hinata says instead, more for a quiet exclamation of gratefulness-- and what for?-- than a comprehensive answer. “As long as you don’t die.”

“We all die in the end, Hinata.” 

“The end isn’t soon.”

“For all we know,” Komaeda presses sweetly.

“Don’t I know everything?” 

Komaeda is caught, once again, in his honest manipulations. Hinata sighs, kisses his temple again, traces his lips down his cheek until he is mumbling against him, “Wake up with me tomorrow.”

“I will.” 

_ Then I defy you, stars. _

“And the mornings after.”

“I’ll try.”

_ And if tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow shifts my mind? I have found rest, Hinata, but none eternal. Was this what you meant all along? _

“And don’t escape somewhere if I’m not going to be at your side. I’ll always find you, right? Even at the end of the world, if not especially then.”

“Okay.” He hesitates. How impressive of Hinata, to so openly  _ want  _ and  _ request.  _ If this night is not a show of selfishness, Komaeda must truly be deluded, and yet. “May… I state my terms? As well?”

“Tell me.”

“Don’t…” his breath catches. It was easier with the diamond in his hands, with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Now, he is tired. He is honest. How, then, does Hinata find his words? He closes his eyes and searches for his breath, and all for, “Don’t abandon me without a word. And… and wake up with me tomorrow, too, and if you change your mind after, you’re allowed that. I won’t… I won’t protest.” Hinata doesn’t speak, knowing he wants to say more, even when he pauses for what feels like forever. “If you don’t love me, that’s fine, but if you do, then love. And when I die, die at my side or live forever.”

Hinata speaks, then; he knows Komaeda’s conclusion. “I promise, then. I won’t leave you, Komaeda.”

“In the hope of easy-kept promises,” Komaeda lightly chides.

He rolls his eyes. Komaeda almost falls in love again. “Fine. I promise. Now, sleep.”

“Then… goodnight, Hinata. Sweet dreams, though not Queen Mab.”

He hears Hinata’s heartbeat, he hears his laugh. “Mercutio, huh? Talk of nonsense.” His voice softens. “Goodnight, Komaeda. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispers, voice nearly breaking. Hinata smiles against his forehead, and Komaeda breathes out the anxiety of relief.

For hours they lay there, drifting in and out of sleep soundlessly, dreams brief and not quite unpleasant, arms still around each other. It’s romantic in a sense, Komaeda reasons, head against Hinata’s chest and Another Hope still on the nightstand. They’ll wake up in the morning, but will never obtain the hours they spent here again.

Hm. He wonders.

For now, he allows himself the rest he can draw from the sleepy haze he is in, indecision and death still lingering in his mind as he tries to prepare himself for a new day. Hinata will wander off and work for near endless hours, and Komaeda will find himself making amicable conversation while perusing books in the library. They will bicker and clash, they will love and protect. And if all falls down, they will wake up tomorrow, away from a grave with rotted flowers, and instead in their own home.

He smiles at the thought. He’s undeserving, he’s disgusting, he will ruin the very thing he wants more than anything. He will hate and he will adore, to all his self-loathing and frantic questioning, and this is not the ephemeral happiness he has ever earned. But, he wants, and if Hinata will allow him to want…

… then he will. It seems so much simpler, to consider while half awake.

In his last waking thoughts, he looks at Hinata, traces his face and nestles against his neck, and he wonders how something so beautiful could last forever and for no time at all. How something like that could be  _ his  _ to love, with all his self. The thought that he will love him tomorrow, and evermorrow, and each day after is something so  _ beautiful  _ to him, so  _ natural  _ like the palm of his hand _ ,  _ so  _ frightening  _ and  _ exhilarating  _ and  _ wanted.  _ It’s all  _ so much,  _ but he has found his conclusion, has found it  _ here,  _ even if he fears himself almost as much as he loves the other.

_ Almost. What a beautiful, heartbreaking thing. _

He lets his eyelashes flutter, Hinata shifting awake again to kiss his temple as Komaeda slips further into warmth, and it all feels in place, no matter how fleeting that may be. 

(And oh, isn’t it wondrous?)

**Author's Note:**

> PRAISE THE GODS, IT IS DONE.
> 
> firstly! this is for the SDR2giftober event! the prompt being "another hope". i was initially planning on doing way more days than solely this one, but i have been rather occupied lately with life things, and thus... you get this. 
> 
> what 'this' is, i am definitively unsure about. themes in this fic, along with the expansive topic of convoluted relationships, is something rather personal to me, hence a reason why i write it often. there is likely far too much projection within komaeda's thought process, which made concluding this an interesting endeavor. it's hard to determine a solution to a problem you haven't been able to solve yourself, in a sense.
> 
> regardless, i'm pretty proud of this! i do like the idea of these two marrying after SDR2, but i feel as if it would be such a complicated mess, so i took my own turn at it. i hope it is somewhat decent and enjoyable!
> 
> in any case! thank you so very much for reading, and thank you to my friends who looked over sections of this mess and helped me work out what the literal fuck was going on. have a nice day my loves!


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